


Colors

by Lazercats191



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aura - Freeform, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, I'm gonna be slow at updating, Kinda, Magic, Not really sure yet, Red Riding Hood Elements, Sorry guys, Victorian era, idk if anyone will even read this but here goes, idk what else to say, independent female character, let's see how the first chapter is received, maybe a werewolf in there, possible series, she don't really need no man, woods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazercats191/pseuds/Lazercats191
Summary: Ruby Holzer is a clutz. She's can never seem to walk in a straight line for more than a few feet, and she drops anything that finds it's way into her hands. Her stepmother might pretend to have hope for her, but she secretly knows she'll never find herself a husband. Especially compared to her stepsisters, she always thought of herself as plain-looking.Ruby has always had a fascination for colors, one she got from her dead mother. She had a special ability, one that allows her to see the unique aura of each and every being around her. Ruby thinks it's a curse, but when it allows her to see a fantastic universe outside of her own, she begins to think otherwise.This story is loosely based off of Little Red Riding Hood





	Colors

Red. Deep red, almost black, runs down my fingertip and slips into the cracks of my palm. I watch, fascinated, as the blood drips down my arm, staining my dress.

Blue. My dress is blue, or it was before my blood soaked into the soft silk. My dress was beautiful, but now it is ruined because of my carelessness. 

Stepmum will be angry. I sigh as I wipe the remaining blood onto my handkerchief. My handkerchief was white once, but now it is an off white from being washed too many times. It's time to get a new one, I think. Maybe stepmum will allow me to pick one out. Perhaps this one will be embroidered. A pretty design or rose stitched along the hem. Something fit for a lady.

I sigh again. I'm no lady. What kind of lady would literally run from company? What kind of lady would make a fool out of herself in front of said company? What lady would find herself lost in the woods only to trip and fall, slitting her hand upon a sharp rock? 

It's these damn shoes, I try to justify. And it's hardly my fault the tea tray was placed right in that particular place, just enough for me to trip over.

I groaned in frustration. Why am I so clumsy? Shoes or no shoes, I still would have tripped. I probably would have made a fool of myself even if the tea tray weren't there either. It's becoming quite ridiculous. One would think I was doing it in purpose, but I'm just that clumsy. I can't seem to walk straight, I'm constantly tripping over anything and everything, and things slip out if my grip like butter. I've broken more tea cups and plates than we owned. We had to buy more just because of me.

Of course I'm the only one who inherited my fathers notorious clumsiness. My sisters Pearl and Candice grew up to be as lovely as flowers, while I only appeared to become more clumsy if thats even possible.

A sudden chill ran through me, causing me to shiver involuntarily. I looked to the sky to see the sun sinking lower into the horizon with each passing minute, casting everything in an orange glow. The leaves on the trees become gold and silver, making it look as if they are coins. The clouds were little fluffs of a pink hue behind an indigo background which faded into purple.

I snapped out of it after I realized I had been gazing at my surrounding for far too long. Not the colors again. Ever since I was a child I've had a thing for colors. They held me in a trance and I would often stare at them so long that it worried my father though he never did say it aloud. He would laugh and tell me I was just like mother, and then he would go on and tell me that when they first met she wouldn't stop staring at his blue eyes. She said they were the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.

I was suddenly remembering my mothers eyes. It had been so long since I'd seen them in the flesh but I thought about them often. They were a coppery hazel with golden flecks. Like a warm sunrise over a forest of green. While my fathers eyes had been beautiful, my mothers eyes had been enchanting. I didn't seem to inherit my fathers or my mothers eyes. Mine were just plain brown. Not even a pretty light brown or a deep brown, just normal brown.

I hated my plain brown eyes. Just like I hated my plain brown hair that just seemed to tangle into knots and frizz around my head. My mother had long, long red hair that reached her waist with pretty waves dispersed throughout. Like a waterfall of autumn leaves that floated down her back. My father had mop of brown curls that my mother would constantly brush out of his eyes so she could see them better.

Agh, I'm doing it again after I just told myself not to! I'd been fighting this curse for years. I was so fascinated by colors I would be so absorbed in my surroundings, just looking at all the colors so long I would lose track of time. I could spent hours trapped in the world inside my head that had an unquenchable thirst for colors. I have lately found temporary relief in painting, because I can recreate the scenes I see in my mind so that I stop thinking about them. But not long after I finish, it starts again. It seems to be getting worse over the past few weeks. I think in colors, every thought, being, or object has a color that only I seem to see. My life is revolved around colors, I don't know what's wrong with me. I fear I might go insane.

Suddenly my head begins to ache. I think too much. I need to stop thinking so much. It's too much, all of it is too much.

I take three deep breaths in, trying to calm my pounding heart. With each breath I allow my eyes to close briefly. On my third breath I open my eyes to see a green field. Not just any green field, my green field. Behind the field lies my house, or should I say my stepmum's house.

I was so lost in thought I must have made my way home without even realizing it. I was so deeply lost in those woods I thought I'd never find my way out, yet here I am. I smiled a little at that.

I start to make my way to the house ahead of me. At least I found it before it went completely dark, although I could only just make out the large house in the distance.

My smile fell from my face when I thought of how stepmum would react to me being gone so long. She'd be worried sick. I could just imagine her pacing her study like she always does when she's stressed. Her stress comes from one main thing. Me. I stress her so much that the wood floor was faded where she always walks back and forth. The floors were a deep rich brown, so it was easy to spot the tread. I hated to be the cause of the ruin of those lovely floors and my stepmum's health. But it's not that easy. I don't do it on purpose, I'm just cursed with clumsiness.

My clumsiness has prevented me from gaining a respectable husband many times. That, and my plainness.

My sisters always say I look so dull. That's easy for them to say when they can boast their beauty for all to see. 

Pearl has long pin-straight blonde hair, with contrasting icy blue irises. Her hair does up nicely since its wonderfully manageable. She had lovely cheekbones and a small nose, which gives her a regal look. The effect is only added to by the way she carries herself with poise. Her polite, yet mysterious attitude attracts many suitors and I wouldn't be surprised if she's already married off before the end of her first season this year.

Candice has a rounder face, with doe-eyes the color of the sea. Her cheeks always seem to be rosy with gives her an air of innocence. Her body is expressly curvaceous, with a bosom any woman would want and most men admire and a smallish waist which she accentuates by lacing her corset tighter. She likes to laugh, and her giggle is cute yet womanly. Like her sister, Candice has attracted a number of men who have shown interest in her hand.

And then there is me. Plain, clumsy, quiet in company, yet talkative when it comes to something I'm passionate about (which is always colors). I bore people so much they have to look for excuses just to leave. Sure, I've had a few men interested, but it only takes an hour or two for them to lose that interest after they talk with me. And I suspect they were only interested because they knew I havr a fairly large dowry placed over my head as a sort of bribery. I'm that hopeless.

Stepmum tried to keep my hopes up, but I'm not an idiot. I can see how much I make people uncomfortable. I also see all my sisters admirers, all the men vying for their attention, and overlooking me. But I don't blame them. I blame neither my sisters nor the suitors. I don't have the heart to be angry, but I can't help it if I'm jealous and upset. My sisters are sweet things who deserve every bit of attention, and I hope they find a good life with a loving husband and future children.

Ugh I sound so petty.

I sigh as I finally reach my destination. I decide to avoid talking to my stepmum till morning. I'm already feeling a headache, and I don't want to get into another argument with her. The same argument we have practically every day.

I find my way underneath my window which sits a story up, conveniently placed within reach of a climable tree. Hiking up my skirt, I leave my shoes by the base of the tree. I couldn't hardly scale up a tree in those blistering things. I'll just have to fetch them in the morning after I have my talk with stepmum.

I've climbed the tree so many times I barely need to think about it anymore. I always leave my window open a hair because I'm constantly fining myself in these impossible situations. When I reach the level of my window, I shimmy  across a thick branch which is only a small leap away from the window ledge.

Making the leap across with minimal scraped and bruises, I slip through my window and make my way to my bed. Not bothering to change out of my dirty dress, I slide under the covers and burry my face into my soft pillows. I couldn't change out of my clothes even if I wanted to unless I called for Julie, our maid. 

Stupid dress, was my last thought before my mind slipped from consciousness into a deep sleep.


End file.
